


Want You Bad. - One-shot

by raccodactyl



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Anal Sex, Dom/sub, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-29 13:19:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19401127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raccodactyl/pseuds/raccodactyl
Summary: Request: Could you plzzz write a steamy one shot about a reader walking in on Dutch while he is all sweaty after a workoutSummary: Yeah





	Want You Bad. - One-shot

**Author's Note:**

> i cba to proofread just suffer

You went upstairs towards your room at Shady Belle, giving friendly hellos to the people around camp as all of them got settled for bed. You heard groans coming from your room and instantly got more intrigued; Dutch wasn’t one to go it alone. 

You cracked the door open and took a peak in, finding Dutch still almost fully clothed. He was missing a shirt, but that wasn’t uncommon for him, especially in the thick Lemoyne heat. He was doing pull-ups from a board on the door frame that had been left by the previous tenants. His arms curled as he pushed himself, letting out deep grunts from his throat. 

“Twenty,” he said as he jumped down, letting out a deep sigh as he wiped the sweat from his forehead, “Shit.”

He turned around and you let the door push open. His cheeks were rosy and his brow glistened in the dim lights, breathing still ragged as his chest puffed out deep. 

“How long you been creepin’ on me,” he said with a smirk. 

“Long enough to watch you get all worked up,” you teased back.

“Oh-ho-ho,” he laughed, “My dear boy. Does seeing me all hot get you all bothered? Always knew you had sick taste.”

“Not my fault you look so damn sexy,” you said as you approached him, putting your arms around his neck.

He pressed a kiss to your temple, “You know what you’re gettin’ into?”

“I’m well aware.”

“You gonna keep quiet or do I have to give you something to bite on?”

“Why limit myself to just one of those options,” you said cheekily.

“Feelin’ mouthy tonight, are we,” he asked, his voice low and husky. 

“You’ll just have to put me in my place, won’t you?”

Dutch didn’t waste another moment before practically tossing you onto the bed. He settled himself between your legs and pulled you up by your shirt collar, having you take it off with haste. He tossed the shirt away and ran his hands up and down your body, grabbing your hips bruisingly tight. Your head fell forward, landing on his chest. You ran your cheek over the hairs that stayed there, gently scratching your cheek as you took in the scent of him. Your hands went for his pants but he grabbed your wrists, switching the hold he had before pinning you down on your back. 

His mouth met yours in a heated kiss, his mustache tickling your lip as the kiss grew deeper. His tongue poked at your lips and you allowed him to go further, letting him explore your mouth in the expert way he knew how. His hips shifted and you let out a moan, shuddering at the small bit of friction. 

Dutch pulled away and sat back on his knees, letting his hands run over your torso as he did. He grabbed your hips and ran his fingers over the bones of your pelvis, putting more pressure where he knew you were most sensitive. Your hips flexed out of reflex and he let out a low laugh, “Need it bad, don’t you boy?”

Your chest began to rise and fall dramatically as your breathing deepened, growing ragged. He let out little hums as he undid the clasps of your suspender, taking his sweet time and drawing it out as much as he could. He moved to undo your buttons and you fell lax, letting out whimpers as his hands ghosted over your body. He was warmer than usual, already heated up from his strenuous workout before. He let your shirt fall open and rubbed his large, strong hands shamelessly up your body, feeling each and every inch of your torso under his fingers and relishing in the sensation, hums of satisfaction leaving his mouth with the mindless task. 

You grew impatient, clutching your fists in the sheets and squeezing your thighs around where he sat. He shook his head, “Patience.”

You looked up at him and his deep brown eyes met yours, pupils blown out in lust and admiration. You were but putty underneath him. 

He finally went down to the waist of your pants, going for the fastens and unclasping them, paying attention not to even graze over your aching member. He took down your pants with a smirk and tossed them away without a care.

“My boy,” he drawled, “We’ve barely even started.”

He moved to hover over you, letting his hand trace up your body once again. He whispered, low and hot into your ear, “This is gonna be fun.”

Without warning, he got up from his spot above you and went off the bed. We went to the dresser across from you and grabbed a book of matches along with a half-smoked cigar. He sat back in the chair in the corner of the room and crossed his legs, lighting the cigar and bringing it to his lips to take a puff. 

He leaned back, speaking with nonchalance, “This is one of my favorite ways to relax, y’ know. Just leaning back in the easy chair and smoking a good cigar. Your company, whoosh,” he shook his head with a smile, “This is just a dream.”

You looked up at him with a scowl but he seemed unphased. You went down to touch yourself out of defeat but he halted you, “Ah ah, sweetheart. Did I say you could do that?”

You looked at him once again, “Who says you own me?”

He leaned forward in his chair, putting his elbows on his knees and staring at you with deep intensity. His voice was low and stern and he spoke with great confidence even in his flat tone, “I do.”

His voice got to you, sent you further down and losing your head in the arousal. He knew exactly what he was doing and he knew that too. He knew he could take his time and he knew you hung onto each and every one of his words. 

He leaned back in his chair once again but didn’t cross his legs this time. Instead, he undid the button of his jeans pushed them down to his thighs, revealing his half-hard cock and the dark hairs that occupied the space. He lazily began to stroke himself and your fists clenched as you ached for attention. 

He continued to smoke casually as if he were sitting at a bar. He grabbed his shaft and massaged his balls, going back to spit in his hand for a bit of extra friction. He still kept his composure, not breaking eye contact and watching as you struggled to keep your cool. 

He let out a little chuckle, “You want it? Come get it.”

You were too deep in it to push back at his patronizing statement. You climbed off the bed and stood between his legs before dropping to your knees. You tugged his boots off and threw them to the side before taking his pants the rest of the way off. He smiled to himself at your eagerness and moved his legs to allow his pants to come off easier. He put the cigar out in the glass ashtray and shifted his focus entirely back to you. 

You put your hands on his thighs and looked up at him. He brushed your hair back, “Go on, boy. Be good.”

He kept a hand on the back of your neck, a sign of comfort and trust when he was in his space of dominance. You closed your eyes and pressed kisses to his thighs, moving in towards his center. You nuzzled against him, letting your forehead drag along the skin before turning your head and pressing kisses to the side of his shaft. He let out sounds of approval and you moved up towards his tip. You took him into your mouth and circled it with your tongue before pressing into the slit. He let his head fall back and mouth hang open, hand moving from your neck and tangling his fingers in your hair. 

He began to rut up into your throat when you started to bob your head, letting your tongue pay special attention to the veins on the underside of his shaft. He whispered half-formed encouragements and let out slews of curses as he guided your movements with his strong hand. His abdomen went tight and his biceps flexed with each wave of pleasure that you gave him. He was lost but still in control.

He moved one of his legs and pushed his shin against your crotch. You took his lead and began to rut against it. The friction wasn’t nearly enough but it was better than nothing. He let out another light-hearted chuckle. Your motions were debatable pathetic but undeniably endearing, “That’s my good boy. “

He continued to groan out praises as you worked yourself up further. He wiped any tears from your eyes as he pushed deeper and deeper down your throat. He let out a grunt and pulled you off. “You’re too fucking good at that,” he panted. “Come ‘ere. I want you bad.”

He stood up and pulled you up with him, guiding your legs around his waist and letting you cling to him, arms around his neck and his arms holding you tight to him. He took a few steps before setting you down on the bed. You moved over and centered yourself and opened your legs, presenting yourself to him. He smiled and dug into his bedside table for the gun oil he kept there.

He sat between your legs and parted them further, running his hands along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. He reached back for the gun oil and spread some on his fingers, humming to himself as he did so. Even though he knew your body like the back of his hands, he was still very watchful for any signs of pain or resistance. Carefully, he slid the tip of his forefinger past your tight ring of muscles. With his free hand, he began to slowly stroke your shaft, clouding any sense of discomfort with pleasure. 

“You’re so tight,” he remarked, “Been too damn long, doll.”

“I’ve missed this,” you breathed. “Missed you.”

He grabbed your hand and brought it to his face, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, “We’ll make this a night to remember.” 

He crooked his finger and brushed over your prostate. You gripped his hand tighter as you let out quiet grunts. He slid his middle finger along with it, stretching you properly, and soon a third followed, ensuring you would be ready for him without any stress. 

He pulled out and the brief emptiness was practically unbearable. He tended to you quickly though, rubbing some more oil over his shaft and proceeding to hover over your body, caging you underneath him. 

“You want this,” he asked as he teased your hole with his tip. 

You responded with a nod and a whine but he shook his head, “Tell me what you want.”

“I want you, Dutch.”

“What do you want from me?”

“I want you to fuck me, Dutch,” you panted.

“That’s my boy,” he praised before guiding himself inside of you. 

He took his time, inching deeper and deeper with care. Your body flexed up when he bottomed out, you bit his shoulder and held onto him with a death grip. 

“That’s it, hold me tight,” he praised.

He let his head fall to the crook of your neck and the closeness of your bodies let him thrust in impossibly deeper, passing over your prostate with each purposeful thrust. Your cock rested hard between your bodies, his belly dragging against it and providing some of the friction you so desperately needed. 

The pressure was getting to be almost too much. Choked sobs left your mouth as you bit into his shoulder and tried to stifle your sounds. He continued to whisper praises, bringing you closer and closer to your frantically sought release. His muscles tensed as his thrusts grew more focused-- losing speed but going in deeper and harder than he had previously. 

“I’m getting close,” he said. “You feel so goddamn good.”

“Please, Dutch,” you begged. 

“That’s it doll,” he said, moving back to his hands and knees. “Touch yourself.”

You complied and wrapped your hand around your shaft, stroking yourself with abandon as you came closer and closer to the edge. His rhythm wasn’t as clean anymore and with a few more frantic thrusts, he sent you both over the edge. His hot spent fulled your insides and your own shot between your bellies. He lost himself, letting out more choked grunts as he rose out your highs. He landed himself almost entirely on top of you as he relaxed. You held him tight, the extra bit of weight making you feel secure in your moment of vulnerability. 

After a little bit of recuperation time, he slid out of you, his spunk spilling out with him. He grabbed a rag from the floor and quickly cleaned you off before tending to himself, wiping your spend from his stomach and making sure you weren’t stuck feeling sticky. He tossed the rag to the ground and collapsed next to you, opening his arms and encouraging you to rest your head on his chest. You gratefully followed his lead and relished in his warmth. You were both a bit sweaty now and the smell of his musk was pungent yet comforting-- you’d still have to wash in the morning. 

You rubbed your hand along his chest and soon traced along his shoulder, “Sorry about this.”

He let out another laugh when he realized how big a mark you left on him, “Oh my dear. I’ll wear it with pride.”

You smiled and turned into him, holding him close. You pulled the blanket up to better cover your bodies. “You’re just too damn sexy when you’re worked up.”

“I’ll just have to do it more often,” he smirked.


End file.
